Chapter Eight

Reality

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"And then add the quarter cup of asphodel in." I instructed my project partner, Blaise.

We have been stuck inside the stuffy dungeon for several hours already, while the rest of the students are enjoying the first chills of the upcoming autumn. But nevertheless, our sacrifices had paid off. Our potion was nearing completion! We'll just let it simmer for a few minutes, mutter an incantation, add a couple of lacewings and we're done.

Phew.

"Okay. I've already put in the asphodel powder. Now all we have to do is wait." said Blaise, his voice filled with relief and satisfaction.

He moved away from the bubbling cauldron and leaned on the wall facing me. He had put his hands in his pockets once again. I on the other hand, sat down gently on a chair beside me. I sighed with great contentment with what we've accomplished when I heard Blaise sigh the same time. We looked at each other for a moment and then we filled the room with gentle laughter.

"Oh I still can't believe we're actually making the Elements Potion!" I exclaimed, my face etched with astonishment.

"I still can't believe I'm stuck down here while the rest are up there snogging their girlfriends, playing Quidditch and rushing their assignments." He sighed; I rolled my eyes.

"Oh yes. Such great agony you must be in."

"Is that sarcasm I'm hearing Granger?"

"Oh so you decided to call me by my last name again, Zabini?" I said playfully, my lips sporting a little smirk.

"Yeah sure Granger. I can do whatever I want." He raised his chin in defiance. "I'm a Slytherin."

"Slytherin huh?" Well, two could play at that game. I, too, raised my chin. "Well I'm a Gryffindor. And Gryffindors never lose to Slytherins."

"Really?"

"Really."

He pushed himself off the wall and stood up boldly. He was smirking as well. As a response, I also stood from my chair, mirroring his stance. He sent me a challenging look. I sent another back. He crossed his arms. I crossed my arms. It was a fight until the death.

And then he spoke. "You know Granger, a great essayist once said that imitation is suicide."

That was Ralph Waldo Emerson. "And so I've heard." I said nonchalantly.

He smirked at me. I shot him a glare. Several moments had passed when suddenly I saw his face glow in mild realization. Ever so slowly, his smirk widened in a mischievous way.

To be honest, he was looking a bit scary.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "What?" He didn't respond. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and lowered his chin a bit.

I thought he was about to give up when ever so slowly, he did the most unbelievable thing: he raised his right eyebrow. Just his right eyebrow.

I silently gasped, an offended look etched on my face. He was smirking like hell right now.

"I hate you." I finally said gloomily, my shoulders drooping a little. He laughed. "Love you too 'Mione." He playfully sent me a flying kiss. I pretended to back away with repulsion. "Ew."

He frowned at me almost childishly. One look and I couldn't help but laugh. He was about to throw a quip at me when the potion brewing in the middle of the room was glowing silvery white.

The potion. We looked at each other with anticipation and anxiousness.

Blaise smiled. "Let's do this."

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"Freedom!" Blaise exclaimed as we stepped into the hall near the entrance of the dungeons. I laughed a bit. Needless to say, we brewed the potion with perfection.

The potion had the same color described in the book (colorless liquid with silvery bubbles) and had the odorless characteristics stated. Unsatisfied until we had actually tried the potion, Blaise and I placed a single drop on a withering plant that was on the table in Professor Snape's office (I'm sure he wouldn't mind us taking pity on the poor thing) and viola! The plant (carnation) sprouted new healthy, green leaves and such a beautiful flower.

"I'm so proud of us!" I said, clapping my hands together.

"Yeah. Good job partner." Blaise said, patting my back appreciatively.

"You did a great job too you know." I told him, sending him a big smile. He smiled too.

"Blaise! Oh finally!" A voice called out from behind me. I saw Blaise put his hands in his pockets once again and smiled at the owner of the voice. "Hey Pansy."

Pansy. I turned around and sure as it is, there was Pansy Parkinson.

"Who are you talking to?" she asked. She looked at me and then her face was contorted with placid hatred. "Oh … it's you." She sent me a scorching look. What did I ever do to her?

Oh yeah. It's all because I'm a muggleborn.

Maybe sensing that some serious tongue lashing could occur if I wasn't move out from of her range of sight within the next minute, Blaise grabbed Pansy's hand and faced me. "Gotta go Granger. See yah."

"Um, okay. We'll just give the potion the Professor Snape tomorrow."

"Okay." He glanced at Pansy. "C'mon."

Pansy smiled at him in such a seductive manner, and then she looked at me. The dramatic change of her facial features was almost comical. If only I wasn't the victim of her vicious glower. "Bye."

I smiled at her with a total opposite of a thought projecting through my head.

As I watched them go outside through the huge doors, with Pansy holding Blaise's hand in an almost controlling way, I couldn't help but ask myself: what do guys see in her? Yeah, I admit, she's drop dead gorgeous but she's just so … so … mean. How could someone tolerate that kind of attitude?!

But to be fair, I guess she really is beautiful if you disregard her foul personality. I mean, she has the most beautiful hair I have ever seen. Shiny, long, and black. She also has an aristocratic look about her. Her high cheek bones, prominent nose, the bluest eyes and the way she carries herself … to be honest, she's like a modern goddess.

Me? What about me? I'm not beautiful. I don't have slick and shiny hair. I have a curly and auburn one that I swear is a living chaos. I keep brushing it in place but a few minutes would pass and it would return to its hectic disarray … My facial features? What about them? I don't have high cheek bones. My face just looks plain from every angle … and I don't have a graceful air about myself either. What I have is a very bad posture acquired from all the years of carrying loads of books.

But what really makes me feel so inferior to Pansy Parkinson is what we call… boobs.

Yes, you've heard me correctly. I said boobs. B-O-O-B-S. Boobs.

Okay, gotta stop saying that.

Anyways, Pansy's boobs are those which every male fantasizes about. And mind you, they're real. Blaise "accidentally" let it slip during one of our library sessions. I still can't stop laughing whenever I think of that particular event because at the very moment Blaise had said the words boobs and big jugs, Madam Pince, the notorious librarian, came out of nowhere (she seems to always appear out of nowhere) and pinched Blaise's left ear while the other was slowly becoming deaf because of all the reprimanding.

Hahaha. Poor Blaise.

Now going back to the topic of Pansy's boobs, I envy her because she has such … bountiful ones. My boobs? They kind of fall between the category of small and normal.

Sigh. So what's my conclusion for all of my ranting? It's just this: Pansy Parkinson is a goddess, with blinding lights surrounding her while birds sing beautiful hymns for her, and I am just a poor commoner, with normal everything. Period.

And as I compare myself to her, I can't help but think in the back of my mind that she once had been a girlfriend of Draco Malfoy … Draco.

I smiled a bit at this thought. I have been training myself to say just his first name whenever I think of him. It just sounds so weird yet so … great when I say his name. I just don't know what's wrong with me. It's like Fate has infected me with its terminal disease.

Curse you Fate.

Anyways, zooming out of my deranged mind and back into reality, here I am in front of the open castle doors, staring at nothingness, sporting a very lost look.

Sigh.

Okay. Self-examination.

Am I jealous? Yes.

Of what? Of Pansy Parkinson's beauty.

Why? Because I'm not beautiful.

Is being beautiful important to you? … Yes.

Why? Because …

Why? …I don't know.

Yes you do. Why?

"Because he likes beautiful girls." I uttered to myself. I kept on asking, already knowing what the questions are going to end up to.

Who? Who likes beautiful girls? Him.

Who? … Draco Malfoy.

Why does it matter for you to look beautiful for him? … because…

Because?

I looked up at the castle ceiling, seeing the ever changing stairs moving around. Then I closed my eyes.

Just admit it Hermione. "Because I like him."

And the truth has been told, the fog cleared, and I saw it clearly.

I have a crush on Draco Malfoy.

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Charms. First period in the morning.

"Good morning Granger." He sat, greeting me like he always does.

I flashed him a smile like I always do and said 'Good morning' to him. It has become a habit for us to do that now. Our actions … it suddenly became a constant in my life.

Familiarity.

"Done your assignment?" he asked me.

"Of course. Already finished it last week." He rolled his eyes at this; I punched him playfully in the arm.

It's okay for us to act normal. No one was still around.

We can be ourselves.

"How many feet long?"

"About four and a half."

"Four and a half? That's more than twice the required, Granger. Are you sure you aren't trying to dizzy Professor Flitwick with your highfaluting words?" he drawled.

"Oh yeah? How 'bout you? How many feet did you do?"

He averted his eyes a bit and answered. "Maybe three …"

I nailed him down with my stare. "Three and a half …" He mumbled.

I snorted. "Hypocrite."

"Am not."

"Are to."

"Am not."

"Oh here we go again." I said exasperatedly, but having a small smile on my lips nonetheless. He smiled at me.

These kinds of things are what make me feel so excited to go to my classes twenty minutes in advance. Just so I could talk to him. Just to see him smile a bit from time to time. Just to be with him.

Even if it's just as a friend. It's okay for me. I have told myself not to hope because hoping that Draco Malfoy would fall in love with a girl like me… it's suicidal.

The signs? What signs? There aren't any signs. I'm just overanalyzing things.

Right.

He doesn't like me more than as a friend.

He doesn't like me like I like him. So … why hope? I'll just end up getting hurt. These moments, they're enough for me. I'm not asking for anything else. Just this, me and him, laughing, talking, and being ourselves.

It's perfect. This familiarity.

"Hey," he leaned a bit closer, "can you help me with our Arithmancy homework a bit later? A need a little help with the numbers."

I suffered a mild internal shock for the briefest moment. Was he … nah, he couldn't be.

"Um …"

"But it's okay if you don't want to." he said in a rush, returning to his normal sitting position. He was looking at the blackboard again. "It's okay if you have some other things to do. I'll just research by myself –"

"Whoa there seatmate." I cut in, laughing a bit (from nervousness? I just don't know). He looked at me. "I … sure." I gave him another smile. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"I'll meet you in the library at eight o'clock sharp, okay?"

The bell rang. 'Us' time was over.

"Okay." He replied. At the exact time, pools of noisy students entered the classroom. I was reading a book, he had his back turned, carrying a very bored expression on his face.

We were pretending once again. And no one seemed to notice.


a/n: Hi guys! Waddya think about chappie eight? Quite good? Bad? What? REVIEW!! Have mercy on me … Please! Huhuhu … Anyways, our inter-section cheer and dance competition was recently finished and the results will be announced tomorrow (gasp!). Hope we win! Well, that's all.

REVIEW!!!!! Pretty please? )